


You See in Black and White

by agentmaine



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, POV Second Person, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate AU, u see in black and white until u meet ur soulmate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 04:07:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6784513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentmaine/pseuds/agentmaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You see the world with no colour, a world of varying shades of black and white up until the day you meet your soulmate. This isn't always easy for Lavernius Tucker.<br/>[soulmate au, set between seasons 11 and 12]</p>
            </blockquote>





	You See in Black and White

You see everything in black and white.

You have, every day since the day you were born. There’s a vivid memory of you, barely 7 years old, talking to your mother about why you were stuck seeing in what you called ‘boring colours’ while she got to see everything properly.

“How come I don’t have a soulmate yet, Mom?” You complained, sat on the kitchen counter while watching your Mother multi-task around the kitchen.

“Oh, darling,” She laughs, making you frown because this is a very serious matter to you. As serious as someone 6 years and three-quarters old can get. “The time will come. You’ll meet your special one - just like I met your Dad - and everything will be great.”

“But why isn’t it great NOW? And how is it fair that I’m stuck havin’ to wait for AGES when stupid Brittany and stupid Katy can already see the colours?” You snap, pouting.

“Patience, my love.” She replies, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “Patience.”

And so you waited. You waited until you were 9 and had a little sister to look after; you waited until you were 12 and discovering girls and boys and everyone else; you waited until you were getting laid by girls and boys and everyone else and then, at 18 years old, you stopped waiting.

Putting yourself to what you thought was “good use,” you joined the army. No more waiting for a stupid soulmate.

That’s how you end up in Blood Gulch.

-

You still think all that soulmate crap is bullshit. You, Tucker, pride yourself on deciding your own fate. You’ll love who you damn want, have sex with who you want, do whatever you want. Your fate is not for anyone else to decide. The only downside is that it just makes the whole “Red Vs Blue” thing a whole lot harder. You learn the difference of the shades, and eventually go from the basis of voices and if they’re attacking you, they’re red.

Or Caboose.

In your lifetime, you’ve met people who are secretive about if they’ve met their soulmate or not. That’s alright, of course, but its certainly not the case in Blood Gulch. Except for Sarge. He’s too busy trying to kill you to tell you about his soulmate.

Church has a soulmate, but things aren’t all peachy with them and she’s not around, so he’s stuck seeing in black and white. Plus, their relationship is… Complicated.

Caboose was born seeing patches of colour. Its super fuckin’ weird. Some days he’ll see certain colours, some days he’ll see others, some days none at all. You wouldn’t be able to explain it if you tried.

Grif and Simmons, two of the reds, are soulmates. They met in basic training and haven’t left each other since. You’re not jealous of them. They’re both assholes that argue constantly. Though, you do guess that they’re perfect for each other. And once in a while you wish you had someone to stay with for that long.

Doc and Donut are soulmates too. Though, their relationship is way too mushy for your liking.

Throughout the time you spend at Blood Gulch, everything stays black and white. You’re glad for that, actually, because fate would have done a pretty shitty job if it had paired you up with one of these assholes. A sex bombshell by the name of Kaikaina Grif shows up along the line and damn, do you learn a thing or two from her. She’s not your soulmate and you know that the two of you aren’t in love, but you really wouldn’t mind being stuck with her for the rest of your life. Great sex and someone who thinks like you do. It's a really nice change.

Other than that, everything stays relativity the same. Shit happens, but not once does colour sneak into your life.

-

You meet Agent Washington.

Agent Washington is a lot of things. He’s an ex freelancer with way too many dead friends for one guy to cope with. He’s bossy and strict and you’re certain he hates you. At one point, he’s kind of evil and trying to kill you and the reds (who you strike up an unlikely bond with over time) with this 6'6 mass of crazy known as the Meta. Its eventful, to say the least. Through all of this, though, you never hate Washington. He’s seen a lot of shit, and hell, the guy seems interesting.

You eventually find out that Agent Washington’s real name is David. You can't help but think that David is almost too normal a name for this guy, the guy with scars inside and out and a history so dark he sometimes shudders at the idea of speaking about it.

You also find out that he’s your soulmate.

It happens when everyone finally gets a few minutes of peace, when you’ve known Washington for a while. You take your helmet off with a sigh of relief, glad to be free from it and go to say something when the change registers in your mind.

_Colour_.

The sky is a colour that makes you think of summers as a kid with your best friend. A patch of nearby grass makes you think of spring and the flower growing through the soil reminds you of fall and your Grandpa’s garden. You look around at everyone’s armour and then down at your own, past conversations and arguments about the subject rushing back into your mind. The way the sun reflects off of a small pool nearby makes you think of your baby sister’s laugh, and for some reason, Caboose’s too.

You don’t even notice that your mouth has been open the whole time. It takes a while for your brain to boot back up and for you to realise that, fuck, there’s only one person your soulmate could be.

Wash.

From the corner of your eye, you see Grif and Simmons exchange knowing glances with one another, because of course they know. This has happened to them, too.

“Private Tucker?” Wash asks, confusion obvious in his voice and his helmet tilting to one side as he speaks. “Are you alright?”

“What- I mean, yeah. Of course I am. Duh. I’m just- I’m just tired.” You stumble over words, making a fool of yourself and trying to play it off as casual. Luckily for you, it works well enough and Wash nods slightly before walking away.

You don’t know what your soulmate looks like.

But when a final battle with the Meta comes to an end, and Church - or whatever you’re meant to call the fucker - goes into whatever that thing is, you can’t bring yourself to say that Caboose is the only one who wants to keep Wash around.

-

You see Washington’s face for the first time.

You and the other reds and blues were meant to go to some place safe, but instead, you end up with a crashed ship in the middle of buttfuck nowhere. Fate does seem to have a way of screwing you guys over. Luckily, nobody is seriously injured and almost all of the supplies stored on the ship are safe. Two bases are established and life carries on.

Until one morning in the makeshift blue base, when Wash arrives into the room where you and Caboose sit. With regular clothes on.

Its way too early for you to be dealing with this and god, you’re surprised you didn’t choke to death on your orange juice, because, fuck. Agent Washington is beautiful.

He has blonde, messy hair that’s much darker at the tips than at the top. His eyes are a sharp grey that pierce into you, stare right through you in a way that makes you shift in your seat and you're really not sure if that's scary or hot or a bit of both. He has these ridiculously long lashes that make him remind you of a model. Actually, you realise, this guy could _easily_ be a model. He has a scar across his left eyebrow and others on his arms, and undoubtedly more elsewhere. You try very hard not to think about _elsewhere._  Freckles cover all of the tanned skin that you see, and that’s when you realise that Wash is fit. Like, “could beat me up and I would say thank you,” kind of fit. Or, "I'd pay you to push me against a wall and do  _things_ to me" kind of fit. Oh, man, this is not good for your health.

Later on, you will realise that Washington has dimples the size of the grand canyon when he smiles, his eyes crinkle up when he laughs and that happiness takes years off of him. You'll realise his freckles really _are_ everywhere and have a horribly strong urge to trace patterns into his skin like a dot-to-dot. You'll find that his eyes are blue in the middle and have a light in them no amount of darkness could put out. But for now, you’re stood gaping in awe at the beauty of this ex-freelancer.

And then it hits you.

The sudden realisation that Washington does not look astounded. That he isn’t taking in all the new colours around him, and finding out that you’re his soulmate. And so you come to the (rather soul-crushing, not that you’d admit it) conclusion that Agent Washington is your soulmate. But you, Lavernius Tucker, are not his. And that’s something you’re going to have to live with.

For the first time in your life, you really do feel a pang of jealousy towards Grif and Simmons.

-

You fall in love with Agent Washington.

Though you try and try and try not to love the asshole, you can’t help it that you do. You want to keep it as platonic as possible and fail miserably because he's your _soulmate_ and despite more flaws and scars than anyone could count, you think he's kind of perfect. If you were asked to pinpoint the moment you went from liking him to loving him, you wouldn’t be able to. It all blends into one and each day you have to keep the façade of being a couldn’t care less subordinate who thinks his new team leader is a dick. In all honestly, you do think Wash is a dick, but hell; you still love him.

You can’t help but love him when he pushes you harder and harder, makes you train more than you have ever before. You can’t help but love him when you catch him smiling fondly at Caboose, or when he lets his tough freelancer exterior down and you actually get to talk to HIM for a while, not just your leader. You can’t help love him when he yells at you to wear clothes to sleep, his pale face red as Sarge's armour while he tries not to look at you. You can’t help but love him through all the arguments the two of you have and the stubborn silences that you both know are pointless. You love him when you hear him wake with a scream of an old friend’s name, and when you go to his side to try and calm him down, you love him and love him and love him as you hold him while he cries.

Neither of you mention the nights you’ve spent side by side, chasing Washington’s nightmares away with stupid conversations and stories of alien babies, old friends and times before either of you knew what war really meant.

It’d break the whole façade.

-

You lose Agent Washington.

Everything goes to shit, quicker than anyone could have expected. A merc by the name of Felix shows up, and the next thing you know you’re under attack and Felix’s backups aren’t fucking arriving. Locus has arrived with a whole army (the Federal Army of Chorus) up their sleeve and with two giant fucking robots about to fight, you look pretty fucked.

Battle rages, soldiers on Locus’ side falling and some things going right, for once. A thought passes through your mind, hopeful, thinking that maybe you can win this. You can kick the Fed’s asses.

You grip onto this thought, this hope, until you’re running back from destroying stupid fucking basebook and you see Wash fall.

“Wash!” His name is ripped from your throat, a pathetic scream, and you freeze up, the world slowing to halt.

The thing that brings you back is a bullet directly shot at Lopez’s new body, barely missing you. With a squeak of 'fuck!’ under your breath, you run to cover and watch helplessly.

Sarge is the next you see go down, a shot from Locus knocking him to the ground from where he was stood. You hear the worry in Grif’s voice but all you think of is Wash, Wash, Wash. Felix’s backup arrives shortly after, but Wash still isn’t getting up, and you’re about to run over to him and yell at him to wake the fuck up.

“Get to the cave, we gotta go!” You hear Felix snap.

“What about Wash and Freckles?!” Caboose cries, distress obvious in his voice.

“Quick! Someone help me carry Sarge!” Simmons squeaks, joining to the frantic conversation.

Soldiers begin to fall around you, more and more, until Felix yells again and Simmons, Grif, and eventually Caboose run to the safety of the caves, where you stand. Without Washington.

Felix is trying to gather explosives to seal the cave when not everyone is here, and you’re praying to a God you don’t even think exists that they can all show up.

Sarge is still out cold, Lopez is screwed, you’ve no clue where Doc and Donut are and you look to where Wash fell.

Except he’s not on the ground any more. He’s stood on his feet shakily, looking around.

“Wash! Wash, come on!” You scream, breath shaking.

Wash just looks around. Looks at the soldiers who came to protect you, watches each of them be gunned down, and you can see the gears turning in his mind. He looks back at you, and next thing you know, you’re hearing his voice in a private frequency through your helmet.

“Hey, Tucker” He says and god, he sounds scared. He's never sounded scared before. Agent Washington should not sound scared because it makes you scared and all you want is to be able to kiss him and keep him safe. He sounds somewhere between laughter and tears when he speaks again, words strained and a gulp audible. A shaky sigh escapes from him and you go to speak before you’re cut off. “Your armour is a really, really strange colour. I’m so sorry.”

The next thing he says, everyone hears. Two words that feel like being punched in the face.

“ _Freckles, shake!_ ”

And so the robot does, and you tear your helmet off as the rocks start tumbling down and down.

“No!” You yell, just before a rock comes crashing down onto your head. As you begin to slip out of consciousness, the colour starts to drain out of your world and everything becomes grey.

-

You end up at the New Republic’s base.

You wake in a hospital ward with Felix stood over you. You’re given barely any time before you meet the leader, Vanessa Kimball and are told of your situation. You, Caboose, Grif and Simmons are the only ones that made it. The rest are likely in grave danger, captured by Locus. You’re all given quads to train and a promise is made that if you help the New Republic, the New Republic will help you.

You don’t have a lot of time to yourself, between training the squad you were given, going on missions to get information. You’re an idiot, you take a ridiculous risk and get two innocent, young guys killed. That’s one of the things that pulls your mind back to thinking about Washington. You think about him a lot after that. Before, your mind was pre-occupied and honestly, thoughts of him were thoughts you were trying to discard.

You lie awake, unable to force your mind to rest, echoes of the words he said bouncing around your head. He sees the colour of your armour. He told you, of all people, that he saw the colour of your armour in particular. That asshole is your soulmate, and you’re his. As soon as you know that, though, fate comes and splits the two of you up. Possibly for good.

Its thoughts like these that get you stealing from the New Republic’s alcohol supply a few nights later. Its obvious that you shouldn’t be doing this, and the alcohol burns and its disgusting but you long for anything to take your mind off Wash.

And so, you’re stumbling around the rebel base, alone and on the edge of being drunk when it happens for the first time. Felix walks over to you, a gleam in his eye that reminds you of a predator hunting its prey and a grin on his face like the cat who got the cream. Or, well, a cat that was about to get it. He says something to you, words that don’t compute with your brain fully but make you angry all the same, which just adds that much more cockiness to the grin Felix is wearing. You shove the short fucker against a nearby wall because damn, you’re mad at the world for taking Wash away from you and this piece of shit with his dyed hair and dumb piercings isn’t helping.

What happens next is something between the beginning of a fight and the start of a make out session. Felix turns the tables quickly, rolling to make you the one pressed against the wall, and soon, it becomes apparent that this guy is much stronger than what he seems. Lips are pressed against yours, hard and forceful, and Felix’s hands grab at your hips, painted nails digging against your skin. He’s biting your lip almost hard enough to draw blood and all you can do is kiss him back with all the force you have in you.

He’s nothing like Wash. He’s rough and everything has to be all about him, even in how he kisses. Felix’s lips are soft, nothing like Wash’s chapped ones that you’ve seen him bite when he thinks and the ones you’ve wanted to kiss so many times. Felix has piercings all over his face, when Wash only has a small mark on his left earlobe from when he had it pierced on his 17th birthday. Wash’s skin is covered in freckles and scars, where Felix’s is covered in tattoos. He’s nothing like Wash, and that’s what you need.

Though, neither of you say anything when Felix slows down for a short while and its Washington’s name coming from your lips.

-

You get Washington (and the others) back.

The past weeks have been a mess, training and assessments going wrong, one after another. Eventually, you decide to take matters into your own hands. You decide to leave on a rescue mission without the squads, because you’ve seen men die because of you before and you’ll be damned if you let it happen again. These kids have been your responsibility, and you don’t want to be responsible for their deaths.

Grif and Simmons take some convincing at first. But you say your speech, and get your point across, with the promise of Wash knowing what to do when you have him back. Wash always knows how to make things right. Grif is the first to agree to the plan, then Caboose (but you expected the idiot to agree to whatever everyone else wanted) and finally Simmons.

With the data and vehicles you stole - or borrowed, as Grif puts it - you leave the Rebel base with a voice message as a goodbye.

After a stop at a gas station and an almost run in with some Feds talking to Locus about you, the Reds and Blues, you make tracks much quicker.

All of you arrive at the base together with little to no trouble after the first incident. It takes a lot of puzzling to get through multiple walls and into the base itself, but you manage it, due to dumb look. Dumb luck is a friend of yours these days.

To get past the sea of guards that surrounds the tunnel that you can only hope leads to Wash and the others, you have to think dumb. The dumbest plan you can think of. That leads to the conclusion of destroying some important looking pipes. Alarms sound after Caboose does his damage and as the soldiers run to try and save their shit from, well, literal shit, the four of you run as fast as you can towards the tunnel.

As you run, you tear off your helmet and dare to hope that you are actually seeing flashes of colour, and its not just your mind playing tricks on you.

You reach a locked door and as an argument breaks out on how to unlock the door, you try to brace yourself for what you’ll see. You expect Wash and the others to be beaten, bruised, maybe on the brink of death.

When the door in front of you opens without anyone on your team doing anything, what meets your eyes is not what you expected.

“Tucker?”

“Wash?”

Your entire world erupts into colour again.

-

You kiss Agent Washington.

As soon as you see him there, stood alongside Sarge, Donut and Lopez, its obvious that something is wrong. That’s confirmed as soon as Donut exclaims that they were meant to save you. Something is up, something seriously wrong, and its apparent that both of your teams have been told the same information about the opposite side. This is going to be a problem.

However, you push those thoughts to the back of your mind. Because Agent Washington is here and he’s alive and well. The confused bickering of your team mates becomes nothing but background noise as you stride towards Wash, pull his stupid helmet off and drop it to the ground, reaching up and kissing him for the first time.

The kiss isn’t what you planned. You wanted romance-movie style shit. You’d planned on kicking ass and saving Wash heroically, then going for the whole slow motion run into each other’s arms. Instead, you kiss him gently at first, then desperately, trying to make up for all the time spent not knowing that he loved you, and for all the months you’ve been separated. You kiss him like he is air, like he's the one thing that will keep your heart beating and blood pumping in your veins. You kiss him like the world is ending because for all you know it could be, and you'll be damned if you're dying without having his lips against yours. Both of you sink into the kiss and you can tell that this is what you want for the rest of your god damn life, if that's another 5 years or another 50. You swear to god you’re never losing Wash again. As you pull apart, he leans down to press his forehead to yours for a moment, whispering apologies until you tell him to shut up.

If you could, you’d make this moment last forever. But, Tucker, you’re still in a war zone.

-

You have a lot of shit happen to you.

After the kiss and Sarge nearly hitting you, an argument breaks out about who is in the wrong. The conclusion is nobody, and that the two sides need to talk before the whole planet ends up exploding. But that’s just the start. Simmons points out that the alarms have stopped and that is when you know something’s wrong.

It doesn’t take too long to figure out that you’re under attack.

The next events happen in a blur. Soldiers from the Fed’s side fall from every side of you and the next thing you know, every last one of you have a gun aimed at you and Locus is stood above, triumphant.

Their voice is even, calm, emotionless in a way that can best be described as robotic. The soldiers you saw at the gas station appear, and its obvious you’re completely surrounded. But with a grenade behind your back, you think you have a plan.

Locus goes to shoot, but a blur of grey and orange appears with a blue shield to protect you. Never have you been more glad to see Felix. Hope swells inside you a bubble inside your chest as you throw him the grenade and thank the lord that Locus can finally get their ass handed to them.

The bubble in your chest gets a knife stabbed through it when Felix lowers his shield and begins to laugh. So, this is what betrayal feels like, huh? Felix begins to talk, monologuing like a classic villain, and somewhere inside you, you realise just how much this role suits him. From the moment you met him, he’d been manipulating you. Thinking back to kissing him makes you feel sick to the stomach. You grit your teeth, clutching your gun hard and feeling rage flow through your blood, angrier than you have in a long time. Locus loses their composure and yells, readying themself to kill every last one of you. You’re too angry to find it in you to care.

Of course, though, you don’t die. Of course something else happens to add to the huge pile of “what the fuck” going on. Of course Carolina arrives, of course ass is kicked until, of course, it goes wrong and Carolina gets stabbed. But adding to the theme of the universe wanting you idiots alive, a future cube comes in handy and teleports all of you to safety. All of you, and a medic.

And an AI that really has some explaining to do.

-

You do a lot of shit over the next weeks.

Time alone with Washington is scarce, but at nights when neither of you are on look out, you press close to one another as a constant reminder that no matter how bad things get, both of you are there. When you’re not alone, you try to stay as close to Wash as you can. Nobody comments on this, even if Carolina does raise an eyebrow once or twice.

Now that you all know that Locus and Felix plan to make Chorus destroy itself, you need to stop it. Things don’t go smoothly. Listing all the mishaps would take hours, but there are some that really stand out. Caboose nearly being killed due to a freckles chip being a tracking chip is one of them. You wouldn’t admit to anyone, but seeing Caboose’s life put in danger scared the shit out of you.

Eventually, you get a call from Felix himself. An offer, to be precise. A free, deathless trip off of Chorus, as long as you let the mercs continue their business. The problem with that, however, is that none of you trust Felix. Plans are offered, ranging from shitty, to shittier, to everyone is going to die. The worst one is put forth by Wash, a suggestion that he, Carolina and Epsilon could leave everyone and sort it out themselves.

No fucking way, is your answer to that.

-

You get stabbed.

Your plan was flawed, you knew that from the beginning. And you knew it was impossible that you would come out of it perfectly fine. Still, you expected a less life-threatening injury. At least you got the Feds and the New Republic to stop fighting and see the truth before they killed each other.

Unsurprisingly, Felix is the one who stabs you. And of course, he’s the one that tells the armies that he and Locus have been screwing them over. Monologuing idiot. You’d say the look on his face when he found out what he’d done was worth it if you hadn’t been bleeding to death.

You see Felix and Locus disappear via future cube before you pass out. Epsilon is yelling at you to try and stay conscious, but you’re tired. Really tired. A nap would be fuckin' great right about now. The thing that soothes you as you drift out of consciousness is that, with your helmet off, the world is still full of colour.

You hope it stays that way for Wash, too.

-

You live.

Of course you do.

You’re Lavernius fucking Tucker.

You just wish that Palomo would have stopped crying on the flight back to the Fed base.

-

You make a call.

This call is to the guy who has fucked you, your friends and an entire planet over. Malcolm Hargrove, Chairman of the UNSC and CEO of Charon Industries.

The call comes with a promise. A promise of revenge, of war, of a very uncertain future. But you think you’re ready. The universe hasn’t killed you all yet, so why would it decide to now? You’re taking fate into your own hands, all of you are. You’re ready to kick ass. What Charon Industries have done to Chorus is not okay, and what those shitty mercenaries have done is really, really not cool.

Its not the style of Reds and Blues to let people mess with them.

Strange, you think, how two sides that were meant to be mortal enemies make the most kickass team in the universe. Not that you’re biased, or anything.

The call is a promise, signed with a less than polite, “suck our balls.” For now, though, you get to rest.

-

You see in colour.

You lay with Wash in a way too small bed, alone and able to relax for the first time in forever. You get to kiss him and relish in the fact that he is unique, nothing like anybody you’ve ever been with before. The two of you are officially dating now, whatever is meant by that. Everyone reacted well, even if Epsilon did pretend to throw up for half an hour straight. You’re happy, and as you look up at Washington, he seems to be too.

“Hey, Wash?” You mumble, lying on top of him with your head pressed into his chest. You won't tell him this, not yet, but you like listening to his heartbeat. A constant and reassuring thump-thump-thump that tells you,  _hell yeah_ , you're both still alive.

“Yeah, Tucker?” He answers, one hand running though your hair and the other tracing the patterns of tattoos on your back. The fact he doesn't have to look at the tattoos to know their curves and edges registers with you somewhere in the back of you mind, a grin spreading across your features as you realise Washington must have looked at them. A lot.

“Why didn’t you tell me we were soulmates before?” Despite wanting to stay where you are, you lift your head for this, studying Wash’s beautiful face carefully, seeing a crease appear between his eyebrows as he thinks.

“I… I was scared, I think.” Wash answers after considering his reply. “Emotions haven’t worked well for me in the past. But, when it happened… I stopped being scared. I’m glad I did.” He laughs, and you feel your heart swell.

“I’m glad too. Stop with the confessions of love before self sacrificing acts, though, alright? I love your dumb ass, and I’d appreciate it if you stuck around for, like, forever.” You chuckle and lay your head back down, cuddling close.

“Will do. And, Tucker? I love you too.” Wash replies, smile obvious in his voice and a kiss being placed on your head.

“One more thing,” You say, placing a kiss on Wash’s neck gently, relishing in the soft noise of approval he makes. “I’m pretty sure my armour is a cyan kind of colour.”

**Author's Note:**

> another old fic posted from my tumblr! i like this one. a lot. as always, comments & kudos are much appreciated and i hope you like it <3


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